


Only $19.99 (plus shipping and handling)

by rhysgore



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Altered States, Creampie, Hate Sex, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Robot pussy, making up shit about cyborgs for fun and profit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: “What you’re saying is, with all the money Maverick gave you, you made a robot dick and pussy.”Doktor looked almost offended. “Months of time and effort went into the designing, building, and testing of the artificial genitalia to make sure that it functions nearly indistinguishably from those of a fully flesh-and-blood human being, but sure, refer to my work as ‘robot dick and pussy’.”-doktor asks raiden to be the guinea pig for one of his new designs. things go wrong. sam is there.





	Only $19.99 (plus shipping and handling)

**Author's Note:**

> things which led to the creation of this fic:  
> 1\. frustratingly vague canonical details about cyborg anatomy  
> 2\. a need to see raiden get dick more often  
> 3\. i love sam. a lot.
> 
> anyways heres several thousand words of biological and post-mgr headcanons with bonus disgusting robot porn
> 
> [now with a chinese translation available!](http://www.mtslash.net/thread-238873-1-1.html)

In the year or so since the Marshal Incident, life had changed, drastically. 

 

The nature of humanity- that had mostly remained the same, although people were working, with varying levels of success, to improve it. For the most part, day to day life was acceptable. Humanity was a mixed basket at the best of times, and as much as technology improved, that would never fully change.

 

On an individual level, things were improving daily. The inclusion of cyborgs into the civilian workforce had resulted in a drastic increase in the overall quality of life, both for cyborgs, and non-augmented people. It was impossible not to notice that although the world was still a dangerous place, it was getting to be a better one as well.

 

The influx of cyborg workers also had some results that not many knew about. After their primary business of providing security became only one of many jobs, Maverick Security Consulting’s primary budget was reshuffled, redefined, and eventually completely overhauled. It was a long, arduous process, and more than one meeting ended with coffee on the walls and everyone having to stay longer than necessary to pick porcelain shards off of the floor, but eventually, everything was back in order, and one Dr. Wilhelm Voight, known affectionately to his co-workers as “Doktor”, skipping gleefully away with a huge bonus to his personal R&D funds.

 

Which is how, several months later, Raiden found himself staring in mild horror at a table full of disembodied, yet still recognizable robot appendages, unsure of whether laughing or running was the appropriate response. Doktor, standing next to him and seemingly unaffected, beamed proudly.

 

“So,” Raiden said, after an appropriately awkward silence, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “what you’re saying is...”

 

“I hope it is not too complicated, Raiden. I was allocated significant funds for the express purpose of improving the lives of those such as yourself. Many of these people still enjoy, ah,  _ pleasures of the flesh,  _ despite lacking flesh, and it was only natural that I or someone with similar resources and priorities would eventually find their research taking them down this path.”

 

“What you’re saying is, with all the money Maverick gave you, you made a robot dick and pussy.”

 

Doktor looked almost offended. “Months of time and effort went into the designing, building, and testing of the artificial genitalia to make sure that it functions nearly indistinguishably from those of a fully flesh-and-blood human being, but sure, refer to my work as ‘robot dick and pussy’.”

 

Raiden shrugged. He wasn’t going to argue the semantics. “I guess it’s pretty… interesting?”

 

“It is designed to further break down barriers which exist between cyborgs and non-augmented persons. You are lucky enough to retain your genitalia in your human body, but many do not have a human body to return to. If I can get it working properly, these will restore sexual function, something which could work wonders in restoring normality to many. That is where you come in, Raiden.” Doktor pushed up his glasses, light gleaming off of them. “I want you to test them out.”

 

“You want me to-  _ what?!”  _ Raiden spluttered, before taking a deep breath, calming himself. “Doktor, no offense, but I really don’t want you to record me fucking someone with an experimental robot cock for science. Can’t you get volunteers or something?”

 

“What?!” It was Doktor’s turn to look scandalized, now. “Raiden, what do you take me for? Some type of pervert?  _ Nein, _ my need for you does not concern the more intimate parts of this anatomy. It is a… stress test, let us say. You lead a physically active life-”

 

“That’s a little bit of an understatement.”

 

Doktor sighed, taking off his glasses to clean them on his shirt. “I just need you to wear them on a normal mission. Test how the hormones interact with your body, make sure the structural integrity is sound. There should not be any difficulties, but I would like to ensure that there are no glaring problems in the engineering before I start testing in the ways you so  _ colorfully _ referred to earlier.” When Raiden hesitated, he continued. “Raiden, your assistance here will potentially allow hundreds of thousands of people to live the lives they want. I am not trying to pressure you into doing something you are uncomfortable with, but please consider this while making a decision.”

 

Damn him for having good intentions.

 

“Fine,” Raiden huffed out, ignoring the unmistakable happiness that spread over Doktor’s face near-instantly. “What do you need me to do?”

 

-

 

As it turned out, the tests he would be doing were less “experimental robocock” and more “experimental robot pussy”.

 

The process to attach robot genitals was relatively simple, once Raiden got past one or two of Doktor’s R&D interns poking around his crotch. Something about people not wanting people to require an instruction manual for sex. The outside of the attachments were simple and user-friendly. The insides were a little more complicated. 

 

“The hormones that work with these organs are already synthesized in the body- the trick,” Doktor explained, “is connecting stimulation of the artificial flesh to the release of those hormones. We have had some difficulties in accurately reproducing certain physical sensations. Pressure and heat- those are standard. Easy.  _ Texture _ is the difficult part. Have you ever noticed that things- fabric, for example- do not feel quite like they should?”

 

“Y-yeah.” Raiden tried not to grimace as a young man crouching underneath him tugged wires around. It didn’t hurt- few things did- but it felt utterly bizarre. He hadn’t really thought about it until Doktor mentioned it, but there  _ was _ a distinct difference between touching things with his real and artificial fingers. A lot of things just felt… off.

 

“With this project, I am hoping to have a starting point for full-body artificial skin that feels more like the real thing.” There was a click, and Raiden suddenly became aware of a sensation which had  _ not  _ been there previously, like a jolt of electricity. Despite being snapped at each previous time he had tried, his first instinct was to touch, sliding his hand down between his legs, feeling the new hole out with some trepidation.

 

“... Huh,” he muttered.

 

“That should do it. Raiden, how do you feel?”

 

“Like I have a robot vagina.” 

 

The two interns chuckled until Doktor shot them a dirty look. “We are starting with this augmentation because it carries far more risk of error than the other. Does it feel natural? No pain? Is there any discomfort whatsoever, unpleasant temperatures, textures, pressures, anything of that sort?”

 

“... No?” Raiden traced the edge of the slit with a finger, and hummed when a note of pleasure thrummed through his body. “Feels kinda weird. But… good.” He pulled his hand away, examining the clear residue that was left there.

 

“Try moving around a little.” A few steps to the left, a few to the right. Raiden couldn’t stop himself from being hyperaware of the by all accounts foreign anatomy, but the sensation wasn’t  _ bad  _ by any stretch. Quite the opposite, in fact. “Discomfort? Stretching? Digging in anywhere it should not be?”

 

“No, it’s… fine.” 

 

Doktor turned to his holoscreen, scanning quickly over a few numbers. “Your vitals seem fine… chemical levels normal… no unpleasant sensations?”

 

“Nothing.” Raiden squatted down on the floor, then stood up again, mesmerized by the way everything shifted and moved with him. “Everything’s good, as far as I can tell. I’m not exactly an expert.” He lifted a leg, slotting it to fit behind his head, testing for any limits. The interns turned to the side, blushing. “Ready for field work.”

 

-

 

All in all, Raiden wouldn’t have been surprised if this pet project of Doktor’s was just a convoluted way to get him to run a job for Maverick again. It almost felt like the old days again, back in his robotic body, the same familiar faces on his Codec.

 

(“Oh my god. Did you tell them…?” He’d asked, to which Doktor had assured him no, all they knew was that Raiden was testing out some experimental parts. They were here to monitor him, make sure he wouldn’t collapse for any reason, and get him the hell out of there if anything was a problem.

 

“Anyway, you would not let your modesty be a risk to your life, would you?” Doktor had ask, to which Raiden had to begrudgingly admit that no, he wouldn’t. Whatever.)

 

The mission was simple enough. Bodyguarding was nothing Raiden hadn’t done before, more times than he could count. Standing behind the guy and looking intimidating was enough to fend off 90% of would-be assassins, especially when the official was as minor as this one. For the other 10%, his sword sat snugly in its sheath, a comforting weight at his back.

 

“Looking good, Raiden,” came Courtney’s voice, her smiling face popping up on his holoscreen. “Vitals are all normal. They’ve been consistent all day. Doktor’s going to be pleased.”

 

“Can’t believe you let him try whatever crazy crap he’s been working on out on you.” Kevin’s face popped up next to Courtney’s. “I’m serious. He’s been locked up in his labs for months, and all he does when you ask him about what he’s doing is give these vague, cryptic clues. It’s weird, man.”

 

“Don’t be such an alarmist.” Raiden struggled not to laugh as Courtney punched him in the shoulder. He’d missed them, more than he’d realized. It was surprisingly nice to be on a mission like this again, and nicer still since no one had tried to start any trouble.

 

As soon as he heard the gunshots, he cursed at himself for even  _ thinking  _ something like that.

 

His blade was out seconds before the small crowd around him erupted into screams. Scanning the area quickly, Raiden urged the two other men guarding the official (both non-augmented, but thoroughly capable) to take him away.

 

“You go. Get him out of here, get the crowd under control. I’ll handle the shooter.” Hefting his blade, he jumped out of the crowd, and sprinted across the street, following the infrared signature the shooter had left behind. The heat signal was weaker than most at the extremities, but stronger at the back, near the spinal cord- they must have been a cyborg as well. They couldn’t have been that powerful, though, since they not only  _ missed, _ but their first instinct after missing was to run as fast as possible from the scene of the crime.

 

_ No respect for their work,  _ Raiden thought, half-bitter, half-amused. He supposed he should’ve been glad of that, though. 

 

As he raced through the streets, slowly but surely gaining ground, there was another beep from his Codec. Doktor, this time, looking more than a little concerned.

 

“Raiden, your body temperature just spiked drastically.”

 

“Yeah. There was an incident, and I’m chasing after the guy now.” He darted out into a busy street, skipping nimbly over the roofs of several cars, and landed in a neat roll on the pavement on the other side.

 

Doktor shook his head. “No, you do not understand. The rate of the temperature increase… it is far beyond what’s expected for physical strain. Are you feeling alright, Raiden?”

 

Now that he mentioned it… Raiden took stock of his body again, noticing for the first time that some of the plates in his armor were venting trace amounts steam, that he felt sweaty and slightly sluggish.

 

“I-” he said, body faltering as a wave of sensation hit him, and everything suddenly felt like  _ too much.  _ His legs trembled, stumbled, and collapsed underneath him, sending him sprawling in the middle of the street. Hot. Hot.  _ God, _ he was hot, so unbearably hot in the layers of armor he couldn’t remove. Cars around him were honking, people yelling at him to move out of the way, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Every one of his concerns vanished, replaced by one singular  _ need.  _ “Oh, fuck-”

 

Panting, he reached down to the thin plate between his legs, sliding it aside. 

 

“Raiden?! Are you okay?! Oh my  _ god  _ what is he  _ doing??” _

 

“His hormone levels are- oh, that is  _ not  _ good. Dok, what’s wrong with him?”

 

“Hold on, I am trying to-” Raiden groaned in frustration. The voices in his ear were like the buzzing of mosquitos, annoyingly present when he was focused on something else. He needed- god, he needed to  _ fuck,  _ needed to have hands on him, touching him, something inside him, needed, needed,  _ needed- _

 

With a growl, he pushed two fingers inside himself. The wet, squishy feeling was strange and unfamiliar, but right now, he didn’t care. All he cared about was that it wasn’t  _ enough. _

 

-

 

Boris Popov was not happy.

 

There were several reasons for him not being happy. He’d woken up with a headache that morning which had immediately soured his mood. Arriving at work, he’d gotten his regular cup of coffee but had come too late to get any of his favorite type of creamer. He’d stubbed his toe on his way to his office, too, which really, really stung.

 

Also, one of his best and most valued employees who was also a personal friend of his was currently a horned out sex freak lying in the middle of a very public street a thousand miles away, masturbating like there was no tomorrow, and swinging a  _ very  _ sharp sword at anyone, law enforcement or civilian, who tried to make him stop.

 

That was the main reason, if he was to be honest.

 

“Please. Explain what happened in the simplest possible terms,” he grit out, sitting at a desk in the mission control center with his head in his hands. There was a camera feed from Raiden’s electronic eye visible on one of the big screens, and everyone was trying very hard to ignore it. Courtney had fixed her eyes on a particular spot of wall, and Kevin was making incredibly awkward small talk with someone who had only recently been hired.

 

Doktor, sitting across from Boris, sighed.

 

“The, ah, augmentations I designed were built to interpret when the user felt certain physical sensations and create a positive hormonal feedback loop that allowed the user to feel sexual pleasure from genital stimulation,” he said, cringing at Boris’ growing death glare. “There was, however, an oversight.”   
  


“I should say so.”

 

“Instead of specifically reacting to arousal, the hormonal response is to any form of excitement, including excitement from itself. And it has no established limit- an infinite, rather than finite loop. So when Raiden worked himself into an excited state while running after the shooter, his body’s reaction was to pump out hormones until he was no longer capable of thinking of anything but… well, I am sure you do not need me to spell it out for you.”

 

“It’s kind of like he’s in heat,” Courtney offered, face red.

 

“Thank you, Miss Collins.” Doktor nodded. “And since we have no methods of shutting him off remotely, he will remain this way until his body runs out of fuel shuts down- which could, with no outside stressors, take days, and potentially kill him- or something wears him out enough that it is safe to transport him, and I can correct the issue at hand.”

 

Everyone was silent for a minute as they let this sink in. Boris rubbed his temple, trying to massage out the headache which had gotten steadily worse as his day had dragged on. Not only was this going to be  _ very _ bad for Maverick’s reputation, but there was a chance Raiden could die if they didn’t have some way to help him, and with the way Raiden was reacting to anyone who tried to subdue him, it would take a damn miracle.

 

“There is one option we have,” Doktor spoke up, almost as it he were reading Boris’ mind. “I have a  _ specialist, _ shall we say, who owes me a favor.”

 

“You can’t mean-”

 

“You’re not serious, are you?” Kevin burst out. “Dok, have you  _ seen  _ Raiden? On a  _ good day  _ he’s almost impossible to handle. Your ‘specialist’ would have to basically be made out of steel to have a chance of dealing with him.”

 

Doktor tapped his nose, smiling thinly but not without humor.

 

_ “Very _ astute of you, Mr. Washington.”

 

-

 

One hushed phonecall and three hours later, a dead man walked into Maverick’s headquarters. Courtney and Kevin were less than amused.

 

“You are  _ absolutely  _ not being serious right now-”

 

“-and how is he even  _ alive? _ Doktor-”

 

“-do realize that this is a bad idea, right? Like, you aren’t  _ actually  _ considering-” 

 

Their voices pitched over each other, an increasingly worried stream of consciousness as they glared daggers at the all-too familiar ponytailed cyborg who had mere minutes ago walked in, planted himself down on one of the nice swivel chairs, and started smirking at them coolly.

 

“Unbelievable.” Courtney threw up her hands, paced a circle around the front of her dest. “Unbelievable. There is no way this is happening right now.”

 

“You’d better start believing it.” 

 

Samuel Rodrigues crossed his arms in front of his chest, kicked his feet up on the desk in front of him, and generally acted like a person who was very much _not_ dead, despite all evidence pointing to the fact that he absolutely should have been. He wore the look of someone who didn’t have a care in the world, and had it not been for his full-body metal-and-synthetic-flesh exoskeleton, the average bystander might have thought that was the case.

 

“Raiden  _ stabbed him in the stomach.” _ That was Kevin, eyes flicking from the almost bored Sam to Doktor and Boris, who both appeared far less surprised by what was going on than him.

 

“You wanna see the scar?”

 

“What?! No! I want to know how you didn’t, I don’t know, bleed out, or go through massive organ failure, or-”

 

“I’m tougher than you give me credit for.”

 

“I  _ know,  _ but-”

 

Boris cleared his throat loudly, and everyone stopped talking.

 

“As much as I am sure you’re all desperate to know about all this,” he gestured to Sam, “unfortunately, we do not have the time for that right now. Mr. Rodrigues is here to help us with our current issue, such that it is, and he needs to be briefed and equipped as quickly as possible.”

 

Sam winked. “I’ve been told I’m your  _ only hope,”  _ he drawled, clearly savoring how the words felt. “So, what is it you need me to do?”

 

-

 

“You need me to do  _ what?!” _

 

Sam leaned over the desk with his fists firmly planted on the vinyl top, gaping openmouthed. Far from the lazy, laid-back figure he’d cut when he first entered the building, his entire body was bristling, and his face was flushed. Standing a healthy distance away, Courtney and Kevin snickered.

 

“We have few enough options as it is, Sam. We cannot subdue Raiden through tranquilizers and the amount of repairwork which would be required if you were to fight him and win would be both expensive and dangerous, not to mention the danger to you-”

 

“So- so-” He struggled to get the words out. “So you want me to  _ fuck him?” _

 

“There is a monetary incentive in it for you.”   
  


“I don’t think being  _ paid  _ to fuck him is any better, honestly.” That was far too close to prostitution for his tastes.

 

Sam rubbed his hands over his face, the cool metal feeling wonderful on his heated skin. This was too much. When he’d gotten the call, all he’d been told was that they needed help in dealing with an out-of-control agent. He’d thought it would be a hit, which would have been no problem. He was used to killing people. He was  _ not _ used having sex with someone who had stabbed him to the point of near-death the last time they’d met face to face.

 

“We are not going to force you to do anything, Mr. Rodrigues. However, at the moment Raiden is a clear and present danger to civilians, and to himself.” Doktor pushed up his glasses. “You have the ability to remedy that.”

 

There were eyes on him, at least four pairs, some mistrustful, some hopeful, and Sam felt them bore into him. Forced or not, he got the feeling this was some sort of extremely weird, very thinly-veiled test. It wasn’t that he felt he had anything to prove, but staying on the good side of the few powerful people who weren’t yet his enemies was a good way to stay alive.

 

Not to mention that if he wanted any sort of rematch with Jack, both of them would have to be living and healthy enough to fight.

 

And Jack  _ was _ kind of cute.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Sam sighed. “Fine. But Jack is going to owe me for the rest of his natural life.”

 

-

 

“Are you sure this is…” A few words popped into Sam’s head at the same time as he tried to look anywhere but at his crotch. “... Safe?”

 

There was a slight chuckle in his ear from the Codec. “Are you wanting to put any part of you which is not replaceable anywhere near anyone who is very agitated and carrying a sword?” Doktor asked. “As odd as this may seem to you, it is by far the best way to ensure that you do not suffer a penectomy.”

 

That was true enough. Sam winced at the mental image, instinctively holding a hand over the metal plating currently covering the very odd piece of equipment that he had been required to wear. All of his body which was covered by robotic exoskeleton was numb to physical sensation, so there was no way he could fuck Jack without exposing himself to bodily harm. The weird, possibly malfunctioning robot cock would have to do.

 

“The hormone loop should not be a concern,” Doktor continued as Sam followed the blinking red light on his radar. “In all honesty, Raiden’s reaction is the result of a few lines of code that were out of place, which I have corrected in the model you are currently using. However, the duration of your...  _ biological reactions _ should be longer- not to imply that you are a quick shot, but-”

 

“I get it,” Sam cut in. 200 feet away, two more short blocks. “Ah… you’re not planning to watch us, are you?” 100 feet.

 

“I will be collecting the data from this encounter for my research. This is the first time my inventions are actually being field tested for their intended purpose, you know. Even if the chemical signature is wrong in both of them, I can still observe their mechanical function.”

 

50 feet. Sam swore he could hear someone moaning, low and harsh. “That is… kind of weird.”

 

“My interest in your copulation is purely scientific, do not worry.”

 

“Not exactly reassuring.” One last corner, and there he was. Jack, lying in the middle of the street, legs splayed open obscenely, showing off exactly how flexible his body was. Face flushed an appealing pink-red color, his tongue was lolling out, making him drool all over himself. The tableau was already fairly enticing, but to top it off, Jack had his sword out, and was furiously masturbating with the handle of it, pumping it into the little slit between his legs like his life depended on it.

 

Heat prickled down Sam’s spine at the sight, and he felt a stir of interest below the belt, which was… mildly concerning. He’d never had that kind of reaction to Jack previously. To be completely fair, though, Jack had never been a sloppy, fuckable mess wantonly presenting himself to Sam in any of their previous encounters.

 

_ Imagine if he had,  _ an insidious voice whispered to him.  _ God, imagine that  _ mouth-

 

“Ah! Your enhancements are working!” The voice that popped up cheerily in his ear might have been a mood killer in any other situation. Sam really, really didn’t need an older German man to tell him that he had a hard-on, especially since said hard-on was pressing somewhat painfully against the metal plating covering his crotch. “Now I doubt this needs to be said, but be  _ careful  _ approaching Raiden. He might recognize you, and be willing to let you closer. Or he might see you as a more personal and dangerous enemy than those who have already attempted to come near.”

 

“So he might want to fuck me, or he might try to kill me. Thanks.” Sam rolled his eyes as he stepped closer, listening to Jack whimper quietly, and moan, much less quietly.

 

It was difficult to suppress the twinge of pity that went through him in addition to the arousal. Jack was a powerful warrior, one of very few foes that Sam had ultimately not been able to best, a person whose conviction Sam had at respected, at the very least. To see him done in by simple biological urges was sad, in a way.

 

The sound of his footsteps wasn’t exactly loud, but even in his sex-addled state, the slight noise was enough to draw Jack’s attention. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared confusedly at the cyborg in front of him, gaze glazed over with blind lust.

 

“S-Sssam?” He drawled, and the sound of his name slurred out on Jack’s tongue went straight to Sam’s dick. The hand that Jack was currently using to fuck himself slowed and then stopped, and there was a slick sound as Jack slid the sword handle out. His expression was unreadable, eye dark and hooded, brow drawn, metal jaw set in a firm pout. He didn’t look _angry,_ but Sam’s hand twitched towards the sword strapped onto his back anyway, feeling the tension of the moment.

 

It was a relief when Jack’s hands went to his thighs, spreading himself open even further in a way that was impossible to misread.

 

“Don’t just s-stand there. Asshole.” Well. At least  _ that  _ part of Jack’s personality was still present.

 

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He was hard to the point of aching, and actually seeing Jack’s cute new pussy was not helping him in the slightest. It was a little thing, light pinkish in color, swollen around the edges from arousal and the rough treatment Jack had already put it through, and leaking clear fluid all over his thighs, making a slick, wet mess. Hands fumbling at his own crotch, Sam unbuckled the metal plate, and the way his own new cock sprung up almost immediately, hard and dripping, would’ve been comical if he wasn’t almost as desperate to fuck as Jack currently was.

 

He knelt down between Jack’s legs, shuffling forwards and resting a hand on his waist, still slim and shapely despite the layers of metal protecting it. His other hand gripped his cock, rubbing the head of it against Jack’s slit teasingly, savoring the feeling of the artificial flesh. Up close, Sam could see a few more anatomical details, the most important of which was that apparently Jack had a clit, too. Sam pressed his thumb against it experimentally, and Jack shivered underneath him, curling his muscular legs around Sam’s waist in an attempt to get the man  _ inside him,  _ already.

 

_ “Asshole,” _ he slurred again, bucking his hips. It came out like more of a whine than anything. “Fuck…  _ fuck me.” _

 

If this had been any other time, Sam probably would have tried to get Jack to beg for it, or drawn out the teasing for long enough to be torturous, but it was fairly clear that neither Jack nor him could wait any longer. With a low growl, he pushed forwards, entering Jack in one smooth stroke.

 

_ God.  _ Sam cursed in every language he knew, screwing his eyes shut and gripping Jack’s waist hard enough that it would’ve broken bone, if there had been bone to break.  _ God,  _ he felt good. Warm and messily wet and tightening insistently around his cock as Jack tried to pull him in, making a sound that was half-moan, half sob as his heels pressed into the small of Sam’s back.

 

_ “Fuck me,” _ he insisted, and honestly, Sam could think of no better thing to do than to oblige him, pulling his hips back and pistoning them forwards, starting up a brutal rhythm of hard, sharp thrusts that had Jack squirming and panting, making obscene noises that grew louder when Sam started playing with his clit, rubbing it with the pads of his metallic fingers. The way he sounded and how he was moving- he could’ve rivaled any pornstar. If someone had caught Jack on camera right now, the video could have made them a fortune.

 

The thought occurred to Sam that someone  _ was  _ currently catching this all on camera. Strangely enough, it wasn’t a turnoff. On the contrary.

 

“I’ve got to hand it to you Maverick people,” he grit out lowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a better fuck.”

 

“... Thank you, Mr. Rodrigues. I hope you do not mind me muting you, now.” 

 

Sam barked out a laugh that turned into a groan. He hadn’t been being facetious- whatever money had gone into making Jack a pretty little sex thing had been worth it, in his opinion. A shame Maverick hadn’t tried out this sort of business endeavor earlier.

 

“S-sam… gonna cum…” Jack was twitching, face screwed up in a way that was almost  _ adorable,  _ and made Sam increase his pace, slamming his hips forwards with a force that would have hurt a more fragile person. He was overcome by the sudden need to see what Jack looked like when he came, what expression that cute face would make. “Sam, oh,  _ fuck, yes!” _

 

He wasn’t disappointed in the slightest when with a loud cry, Jack’s entire body shook, back arching off the pavement beneath him, eye rolling back, mouth falling open in a soft “o”. His pussy was tight and wet around Sam, and the silky pull of it was irresistible. He felt his balls tighten up, and two strokes later, the familiar sensation of his own orgasm rattled through him.

 

Pulling out and catching his breath, Sam noticed two things. The first was that he was still hard, which to be fair, he’d already been told about. Even though the orgasm had been incredibly satisfying, he was ready to go again.  _ Like some sort of expensive and incredibly handsome vibrator,  _ he thought, smirking.

 

The second thing was the viscous, white fluid his cock was leaking. He wondered if it was actually semen, or if it was some sort of artificial substitute that Maverick’s R&D people had cooked up. It looked real enough, and the sight of Jack lying there, coming down from the aftershocks of orgasm with a glazed over look and Sam’s cum dripping out of him was enough to have Sam raring to go for round two.

 

Judging by the way Jack scooted forwards on his ass, trying to take Sam’s dick into him again, they were on the same page.

 

There was a round two, with one of Jack’s legs hoisted over Sam’s shoulder. And a round three, Jack on his hands and knees, moaning as Sam pulled his hair and smacked his ass. And a fourth and fifth, Sam lying on his back while Jack rode him, throwing his head back and working his powerful thighs until he came with with a shuddering moan. And on, and on, in a variety of positions that required increasing levels of both creativity and flexibility for them to maintain.

 

He ran out of energy slowly but surely as Sam fucked him again and again, stamina ebbing away even though his appetite wasn’t nearly sated. They were somewhere near round fifteen, and Sam was busy burying his head in between Jack’s when he realized the other wasn’t moving. His head was lolling onto his shoulder, eyes shut, a blank, peaceful expression on his face. He’d fallen asleep.

 

_ Cute,  _ Sam thought, despite himself. He pulled back, and Jack’s body folded in on itself, curled up on the street beneath him as he breathed quietly.

 

Night had fallen, Sam noticed. Picking up Jack gently so as not to wake him, he carried the sleeping cyborg quietly down the now nearly empty city streets, all the way back to where the helicopter had dropped him off earlier that day.

 

-

 

The first thing Raiden felt when he woke up was  _ sore. _

 

Soreness wasn’t a new feeling to him, but it was unusual for him to feel  _ this  _ stiff. He  _ was _ in his human body, but he still would have needed to have gone through some  _ serious  _ manhandling.

 

“Ugh,” he mumbled, gripping the sides of his head as he sat up. At least the bed he was in was soft. “What the hell…” His skull felt like someone had put it through a blender.

 

“Rise and shine,  _ lindo.” _

 

If he had been feeling remotely in his right mind, or like he wasn’t going to go into convulsions if he moved at a speed greater than a crawl, Raiden would have immediately been out of bed, weapon in hand. As it was, he simply let out a groan at the familiar voice.

 

“So hell is just constant muscle cramping, then,” he muttered, trying to stretch his arms out. A few joints cracked loudly, but the pain went down along with them.

 

“You’re not dead, Jack.” 

 

Turning to the side, Raiden saw Sam stretched out on a nearby couch, sprawled across its cushions like he owned it. He wasn’t wearing his exoskeleton, the first time Raiden had ever seen him without it, but besides toning down the bulk of his thighs and hips, his size was mostly the same- broad shoulders, long arms, thick legs. His hair was down, too, falling in a smooth black sheet around his head- he looked almost casual.

 

“And neither are you. How unfortunate.” Raiden’s lip curled up in a sneer.

 

Sam snorted. “Please,” he said, smirking. “I don’t think you can maintain that attitude after I so kindly lent you a helping hand in your hour of need.”

 

Clearly, Raiden had stumbled into some bizarre alternate version of reality where everything he knew as truth was actually an intricate fabrication created by someone who hated his guts. “I’m sorry, what the fuck are you talking about, exactly?”

 

Tsking softly, Sam sat up, the lithe muscle of his body curving as he did so. Now that he was wearing sweatpants and a thin tank top, Raiden could see parts of him that were normally covered by metal plating. The long column of his throat. The bulge of muscles in his flesh arm, and the sleek metal of his prosthetic. The sharp vee of his hipbones that Sam hadn’t bothered to pull his pants up far enough to cover.

 

He was an attractive guy. Too bad he was such an asshole.

 

“Jack, are you sure you don’t remember?” Almost cooing at him, with a condescending note that made Raiden’s blood boil. “An experimental new enhancement… good samaritanism gone wrong… me, fucking you stupid…” His voice trailed off, and he winked.

 

Something came back to Raiden in a bright flash of color and noise. He remembered being on a mission. He remembered the assassination attempt, feeling sick, and then…

 

Oh. 

 

Raiden’s cheeks colored with embarrassment as the more lurid aspects of the mission came back to him. The more specific details of what had happened kind of blended together, but he remembered being desperately horny, remembered abandoning the mission and most of his dignity for his own pleasure, and… remembered spreading his legs shamelessly for Sam, letting the cyborg fuck him until he’d passed out, still wanting more.

 

“Ah, there it is!” Sam clapped his hands together, grinning wildly at the expression of horror crossing Raiden’s face. “I knew you had it in you. Good thing it came to you, I’d feel bad bragging about how I saved your life and trying to cash in on the huge favor you owe me otherwise.” He looked on with amusement as Raiden struggled to his feet, ignoring the way his body complained and revolted against the treatment. “Where are you going?”

 

“Gotta- gotta-” Raiden made a vague gesture with his hands. “Yeah,” he finished lamely, rushing out of the room as fast as he could.

 

From the hallway he immediately found himself in, he could tell that he was back at Maverick’s headquarters. He’d probably been set up in a spare breakroom, on an air mattress, and it was only once he felt cold stone under his feet instead of carpet that Raiden realized he was barefoot, and dressed only in an old t-shirt and boxers.

 

_ “Fuck,” _ he mumbled, shaking his head. The day was getting worse by the second. Why had he slept with Sam (quite a few times, if his memories were accurate)? Why was Sam at Maverick, and not  _ dead?  _ What exactly had happened to him? And where the  _ hell  _ did his clothes go?!

 

Staggering down hallways feeling for all the world like he was simultaneously hungover and coming off a runner’s high, Raiden eventually made his way back to the main control room. Pushing open the door, he stumbled inside, and was relieved to see faces that were both familiar, and not of people he’d stabbed in the stomach. Courtney and Kevin were at their desks, discussing something in hushed voices, and somehow he managed to pull himself over to them, wincing as he did so.

 

“Hey, guys.”

 

Courtney looked at him, and nearly dropped her coffee mug.

 

“R-raiden!” She stammered, face turning a shade of pink that did not bode well for the upcoming conversation. “You’re up! That’s, uh. That’s good! We weren’t expecting that for another few hours!”

 

“You’re looking… healthy,” Kevin supplied, staring everywhere but at Raiden’s face.

 

Oh boy. “I feel like I’ve been through a jet engine,” Raiden grumbled. “And there’s a dead man in my room, which is actually just a kitchenette with a couch and an air mattress. And he’s telling me that he apparently saved my life, which is weird, because all I remember him doing is- not that.” He scratched at his hair absentmindedly. “Any chance you could fill me in on what exactly the fuck is going on here?”

 

The two glanced at each other, having some sort of nonverbal conversation with their eyes and miniscule facial expressions that Raiden couldn’t parse, before turning back to him.

 

“You, uh,” Kevin said, struggling to word whatever he was about to say tactfully. “You were testing out  _ something  _ for Doktor, and sort of. Had some trouble. In the downstairs department. Doktor had Sam come give you a hand. Well, not a hand, per say, but-” He winced. “Except that one time. But the other times it was less hand and more weird robot penis.”

 

“You were going to die if he didn’t, Raiden, and you’d already been hurting civilians. We couldn’t make you stop- you would have worn down your power supply and done irreparable damage to your internal systems unless we did something drastic,” Courtney supplied.

 

Raiden’s face didn’t change. “Really.”

 

“... Yeah.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Courtney blinked at him. If it was possible for a blink to be loud, that one was. “Raiden, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

 

“Yeah, I mean. Why would I not be?” Raiden threw up his hands, shrugging as hard as he could. “I mean, I only was convinced to try some sort of  _ dangerous experimental sex toy _ which  _ malfunctioned  _ and made me outrageously horny and destructive to the point where I and everyone I know decided that it was a good fucking idea to have  _ Jetstream fucking Sam  _ put his goddamn _ magical healing robot cock in me.  _ Why would that upset me?!” He laughed, bitterly. “And I can’t even call him an asshole for doing it, because I have to be  _ alive  _ to call him an asshole, and I wouldn’t be if he hadn’t been willing to go out there and perform the brave, selfless task of  _ dicking me down.” _

 

He walked around in a circle, fuming, Kevin and Courtney looking at him uneasily. When he’d woken up, his first assumption was that he’d have to deal with a hangover, maybe the consequences of a barroom brawl if he’d gotten too rowdy while drinking. Now, he almost wish he’d broken someone’s arm, or thrown a guy through a window. At least then, he could pay back what he owed by just giving the person money.

 

But no, Sam wouldn’t want money even if he had whatever amount was correct for whatever kind of situation he was in right now. Prick. Fuck that guy and his goddamn smirking, and his incredible muscles, and the way he had  _ clearly _ waited for Raiden to get up so he could rub this whole situation in his face, and the way he just had to show off by actually paying attention to the clit-

 

“Raiden, you should stick around. Doktor’s going to want to talk to you about all of this,” Courtney called after him, but Raiden was already leaving the control room. 

 

It wasn’t that Sam had fucked him. It was that this was another fucking  _ competition,  _ and even though he’d been on the handle end of the sword last time they’d confronted each other, Sam had made Raiden  _ need him  _ in the end. He’d won, in some roundabout way, even if he wasn’t alive to see it. 

 

He needed to at least  _ attempt  _ to pay Sam back, or he’d never hear the end of it. And more than that, he needed to  _ win. _

 

Raiden stalked back through the hallways, ignoring the strange looks that people gave him as he passed them, and slammed the break room door open as hard as he could. Sam, sitting like a normal person now but leaning back on the couch with the air of a lazy cat, barely reacted. He raised an eyebrow as Raiden closed and locked the door behind him.

 

“I seriously hope you’re not thinking about trying to kill me with the coffee maker,” he drawled as Raiden strode forwards, bloody murder in his eyes.

 

“Shut. Up.” With those two words, Raiden dropped to his knees.  _ That  _ got a reaction, the slightest inhale which indicated that Sam was at least  _ surprised,  _ although the satisfaction from that didn’t last for more than two seconds before Raiden felt long fingers winding in his hair, pulling him closer.

 

Sam had been entirely flaccid, but having an attractive blonde mouthing at his dick seemed to function as a pretty effective aphrodisiac. By the time Raiden tugged the waistband of his sweatpants down, he was already sporting a half-chub. Raiden was still glaring at him, but the bitterness didn’t stop him from suckling at the base of Sam’s cock, tracing along the veins and ridges with the tip of his tongue.

 

“You suck a lot of cock, pretty boy?” Sam asked, voice low and breathy. He was fully hard now, humming as Raiden licked up and down his shaft with an angry enthusiasm.

 

“Please. Stop talking.” Raiden worked his lips over the head, grimacing at the taste of precome. He  _ had _ sucked cock before, but no matter how many times he did it he could never get over that specific type of bitter, salty flavor. Instead of keeping it in the front of his mouth, he took a deep breath, and pushed his head as far down as he could get it, until his nose was buried in the thatch of Sam’s pubic hair.

 

Well. That was unexpected.

 

It wasn’t as if Sam thought Jack was incapable of deepthroating him, but the fact that he’d jumped straight to it with little preamble was… kind of hot, actually, as was the clearly visible bulge in his throat. Sam couldn’t help the noises he was making, little gasps and groans as Jack’s mouth and throat worked him, as the hand that wasn’t holding his hips down against the couch cushions started fondling his balls. 

 

Fuck, but Jack was  _ good _ at this. Sam wanted to tell him as much, but he was pretty sure if he opened his mouth to do anything but warn Jack of his impending climax, he’d be left with nothing but his hand and the fond memories of Jack’s various orifices to finish himself off.

 

It was only when Raiden was on the verge of passing out, when his cheeks had turned bright red and then bluish purple and his eyes had started to water, that he lets Sam’s cock go. He pulled off it with a wet pop, breathing hard. There was saliva dripping down his chin, his lips puffy and swollen from the prolonged stretching, but he wasn’t done yet. He took Sam into his mouth again, halfway down the shaft, and sucked  _ hard,  _ and fuck, the sight was absolutely  _ obscene. _

 

Part of Sam was miffed by the fact that no matter how filthy or disheveled Jack got, he still looked like a damn model. Most of him didn’t care, though, too distracted by the fact that Jack was currently pulling an orgasm straight out of his balls. With a loud shout, he came down Jack’s throat, fingers flexing and unflexing in the upholstery of the couch.

 

Without breaking eye contact with Sam, Raiden swallowed.

 

He pulled off Sam’s cock again, wiping at his mouth as he did so. It was more of a habit than out of actual concern for his appearance- he’d gotten everything that had been pumped into his throat. As dirty as it was, he couldn’t help feel a twinge of pride when he stood and noticed the stunned look on Sam’s face. It was the first time he’d really seen the man lose his composure.

 

“We’ll talk about me paying you back fully later,” he said, waltzing over to the door, deliberately swinging his hips in a way that Sam wouldn’t be able to help but notice. 

 

“Yeah. Okay.” Sam sounded dumbfounded, and slightly overwhelmed, a combination which suited Raiden just fine. Casting a wicked smirk over his shoulder, he stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

 

As strange as it would’ve sounded to him two days ago, having sex with Samuel Rodrigues was not something he was dreading. Even if he was an asshole, he had a nice dick, and Raiden found himself shivering at the thought of putting it to good use. His day was already looking much better than it had been only an hour ago.

 

Now, if he could only find a pair of pants...

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr @rhysgore, hmu


End file.
